


Five Nights

by Crossroadsdeals



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Five Nights at Freddy's 3, Horror Attraction, Jason Fitxgerald, Marcus - Freeform, Night guard - Freeform, Other, haunted, restaurant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 09:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossroadsdeals/pseuds/Crossroadsdeals
Summary: Supernatural hunters Sam and Dean Winchester stumble across an old cold case featuring strange occurrences at a long-since closed up children's restaurant-chain. After hearing about a local fright attraction built in tribute to the old restaurant, and apparently featuring relics from the closed-down locations, the brothers realize the story might not be over yet.





	1. Prologue: Final Call

_November 4_ _th_ _1993_

His hand trembled slightly as he pressed the record-button. For the fourth time in as many nights the old tape recorder whirred to life. He covered his mouth and gave a nervous cough, checking the door to his right as he did so. The darkness and total silence was almost unbearable.

He swallowed hard, pulling a hand through his sweat hair and began speaking: "Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow! Night four. I knew you could do it."

His gaze wandered towards the leftmost door as he could hear the fast approach of metallic footsteps, and he swiftly dove to close the door. This resulted in a loud banging of metal on metal. He collected himself and continued talking.

"Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow."

The ferocious hammering against the door continued and he drew a trembling sigh, loosening his collar a little to better be able to breathe.

"It's been a bad night here for me. Uh, I-I'm kinda glad I recorded these messages for you," – he cleared his throat – "uh, when I did."

His eyes darted towards the open door on the right, and rather than checking the hall-lights, he chose to close this one as well. It was a risky game, but he had to do it. But as he pressed the button, nothing happened. His eyes grew wide with fear. This was it.

"Uh, hey… Do me a favor." He began, trying to shut out the continuous banging to his left, and focusing on delivering his message.

"Maybe sometime, uh, could you check inside those suits in the back room?"

His gaze was firmly fixed on the black opening to his right as he spoke. With the constant hammering coming from the left, he couldn't hear anything. And with the door and hall-lights inactive something could be standing right outside the door, and he wouldn't even know. He swallowed again and silently cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad."

Fat chance. He looked over at the leftmost door again as it gave a faint creak, wondering how much longer it would hold.

"Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what were in all those empty heads back there. You know…"

He froze as the banging suddenly stopped and he could hear a music box-like chime, followed by a low, raspy moan. His head snapped back towards the open door at his right, just in time to see a shape disappear out of his field of vision and behind him, into the room. He did not dare turn.

"Oh no."

He shut his eyes tightly, a singular teardrop rolling down his cheek as a hand locked firmly around his neck followed by a loud, inhuman screech.


	2. Fzbear's Fright

_October 25_ _th_ _, present day_

The early-morning café guests looked up briefly from their coffees and newspapers at the car stopping outside the café. Out of the car stepped two young men, one taller than most, wearing a plaid shirt and worn jeans, with a large canvas bag flung over his shoulder. The other slightly shorter, wearing a leather jacket and dark jeans. Both had brownish hair, though the taller one had significantly more of it than the other. The two were deeply engulfed in conversation when they entered the café, though the shorter one seemed less interested, than the tall, long-haired one.

"I'm just saying, Dean," Sam Winchester began as they made their way towards the counter. "If you're gonna bring company to our motel room at night, give me a minute's notice so I can pack my stuff, maybe yours too and book another room."

"Come on, Sammy." Dean replied. "She wasn't that bad." Sam scoffed.

"No? She tried to steal my laptop." he pointed out, and then continued when Dean made to reply: " _And_  your keys."

Dean's face froze in an expression of horrified shock.

"Bitch did what? When?" he demanded to know.

"'Bout an hour before you woke up." Sam said, trying to hide the smugness in his voice as they stopped by the counter.

"Well, then why didn't you tell me that!" Dean exclaimed, obviously still upset.

"Because you'd have shot her." Sam replied shortly, casting a glance around the café. By now they were getting weird glances from several of the guests. Time to put an end to this little argument.

"Damn straight I would've." Dean declared promptly. "Trying to steal my Baby…" He shot a glance towards the window through which they could clearly see their beloved black '67 Impala – the closest thing the brothers had ever come to a home – standing parked.

A waitress came over to them. She was plump, middle aged, wearing a small white apron, over an old fashioned looking red-and-white checkered dress.

"What can I get you, boys?" she asked, her face folding into a well-worn smile as she flipped her notepad open. Dean glanced up at the menu, displayed above the counter.

"I'll have today's special, and a coffee. Black. Oh! And a slice of that pie over there, too." He added when he noticed the pie-stand on the counter a little further off.

"Sure, thing, sugar. You?" the waitress said, pointing her pen to Sam.

"Uhh, make that two coffees and a ham-and-cheese sandwich with a side of salad, please."

"Alrighty, then! I'll be right back." The waitress smiled and walked off.

While they waited, Sam reached to grab an abandoned newspaper lying by the seat next over. As he picked it up, a small flyer slid out of it and sailed to the floor. The boys gave it a brief glance, but Dean had to look a second time. Frowning, he slid off his seat and picked up the little piece of paper examining it.

"Hey, Sammy." He said sitting back on his stool.

"Hm?" Sam said, not looking up from the paper.

"This name look familiar to you?" Dean looked up at him, and Sam put the paper down to examine the flyer he was reached.

The flyer showed a picture of a rather large room with a window at the front and a doorless opening to the left, and some rather disturbing animalistic figures. Below it was a text which read:

'FAZBEAR'S FRIGHT!

Re-discover the truly terrifying secrets of the old pizzeria in this marvelous new attraction, featuring  _real_  artifacts from the closed-down restaurants!

Coming soon to Ravenhale amusement park'

In colorful letters. Sam let out a silent scoff, his brow furrowing into a thoughtful frown. But before he could think more about it the waitress returned with their orders.

"Here you are, sweetums, Two coffees, black, one today's special with a slice of pie and a ham-and-cheese, side of salad. Enjoy!"

The boys thanked her and dug in.

About halfway through the meal, Dean looked over at his brother, expectantly, saying with his mouth full of food: "So, that name seem familiar to you too?"  
Sam, having a little more manners than his brother, hurried to swallow.

"Yeah," he said, ducking under the counter to find his bag. He opened it while sitting upright again, and pulled an old, tattered leather journal from it.

"I think Dad mentioned it in his journal somewhere."

He opened the old book, and began to leaf through it. Pages upon pages filled with weird symbols, old newspaper articles, notes and drawings flipped before his face, until he finally found what he was looking for. An ancient-looking newspaper clipping describing the grand opening of a brand new pizzeria. And on the page opposite, a somewhat newer-looking article describing its closure seemingly only a few years later. There were a few other articles too, folded together and paper-clipped onto the page.

"Here it is." Sam said, putting the journal down. They bent over it reading together. The article wasn't big. It could fit unfolded on the journal's A6 page. At the top was a picture of a generally normal-looking children's restaurant, with what looked to be the owner, and maybe the then-town mayor smiling and shaking hands. Underneath, the text read:

' _ **Grand opening!**_

 _The all-loved, well-known Fredbear's Family Diner re-opens now as the new pizza-chain Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, featuring all-new animatronics ,equipped with a brand new program, designed to be more secure and child friendly._ (At this point the boys exchanged skeptical looks)

_The restaurant opens later this week (see additional flyer for more information) and invites children and adults alike to a special opening feast with games, musical numbers featuring the brand new animatronics, an all-new attraction for the younger children, and of course lots and lots of delicious pizza!_

" _We are happy to reinvent the old family diner into a place where kids and parents alike can once again have fun and enjoy a great meal together." Restaurant owner, and leader for the new corporation Fazbear Entertainment Matt Cawthon says, smiling. "We are hoping to see a lot of smiling faces at our grand opening."_

The next article, presumably dated some years later, though they couldn't be sure since there was no date on either article, explained about the closing of the pizzeria. This one was even smaller than the former, and featured no pictures whatsoever. It had probably been cut out from the back of the paper. The text read as follows:

' _ **Freddy's closing down**_

_Local pizzeria Freddy Fazbear's has announced their closure by the end of the year. The restaurant has encountered many problems, and struggled with complaints about hygiene, possible malfunctioning in the animatronic mascots and questionable employees over the course of many years, and many wonder why it hasn't been shut down sooner._

" _We like to believe that it's because, though adults might not find it charming, our restaurant and beloved mascot animals still holds a special place in the hearts of the children." A spokesman for Fazbear Entertaiment, the restaurant owners, announced, but did not want to elaborate further, or answer any more of our questions.'_

"I'm sure it does." Dean said, answering to the spokesman's comment as he sat back raising his eyebrows at his brother, who still sat leaned over the journal.

"That wasn't really a lot of information…" Sam said slowly, pulling the additional news-clippings out from beneath the paperclip. He unfolded them and lay them flat out across the journal. Dean, chewing on a piece of his pie, once again leaned in to read. The first one was a help wanted advert, asking for a night guard. Nothing too terribly interesting.

"One hundred and twenty dollars a week?" Dean exclaimed after reading through the short notice. "That's not even– is that even legal?" He glanced up at his brother.

"I'm assuming this article is from around the early nineties when minimum wage was on about three to four dollar an hour." Sam replied, not looking up as he pushed the advert out of the way and proceeded to read the other articles.

"Dude, it must've sucked to work minimum wage back then…" Dean muttered. Sam glanced up at him briefly.

"Well, to be fair, the prices were lower." He pointed out.

"Yeah, I  _know_  that." Dean replied, picking up the clipping and examining it. There was a picture of one of the restaurant's animatronics, probably Freddy – It looked like a bear – in the upper left corner. "But still… A hundred and twenty a week for watching over this creepy-ass dude and his friends?" he showed to the picture in the article. "That gig better've scored you some free pizza."

Sam let out a scoff of laugher and read on.

"Here's something…" He announced a short time later.

"What?" Dean asked, leaning in. His mouth was once again full of food, and he sprinkled pie crumbs all over the journal as he spoke. Sam sent him a disapproving look.

"Dude." He said, picking up the book and brushing the crumbs off the pages. Dean backed off, lifting his hands as he finished chewing.

"So what've you got?" he asked after having swallowed the pie. Sam pushed the old news clipping towards his brother.

"Apparently five kids were abducted, possibly killed at the restaurant at some point." He said as Dean skimmed through the brief article. It told a story of a total of five children disappearing, presumably over the course of days, or even weeks. The kids were apparently lured into a back room, after which they were never seen or heard of again. Later, complaints were filed about a foul stench coming from the animatronic mascots as well as what looked like blood leaking from their facial area. But the details were vague. It mentioned something about the police making an arrest, but never confirmed if they'd gotten the right guy. And the children, though presumed dead, were apparently never found.

"Huh." He said once he'd read through it all. Sam met his gaze.

"So what do you think?" he asked. Dean frowned.

"What do I think what?" he asked.

"Is it worth looking into, you think?" Sam asked. Dean gave a slight shrug.

"Sure." He said idly. "I mean, it's in Dad's journal. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Sam said slowly, pushing the old news clippings around.

"But…" he continued on, his inner sceptic not entirely satisfied with the facts laid before him.

Dean looked expectantly at him. Sam sighed.

"I mean, these articles are old. Maybe someone's already taken care of it. Hell, we don't even know what 'it' is."

Dean picked up the flyer and held it up for Sam to see.

"This place is featuring real artifacts from the old restaurants, right?" he said. Sam couldn't help drawing a slight sigh. He knew only too well where this was going.

"Now if there was anything supernatural going on back at the restaurants, then chances are there might be something going on at this place too. We should at least have a look. Make sure." Dean said earnestly. Sam nodded. Sometimes he admired his brother's ability to believe so strongly in what meager facts they had.

"Yeah. I know." He said, looking down at the articles again.

"It's not a lot to go on, though…" he continued on. "We should find out more about this place and what made it pique Dad's interest in the first place." He refolded the loose articles and placed them back under the paperclip again.

Dean gave a short nod and turned his attention to the waitress as she walked past.

"'Scuse me, sweetheart?" he said, she turned around, and Dean flashed her one of his womanizer smiles.

"Is there a library around here?" he asked. The waitress smiled back.

"About one block down that way, dear." She replied, pointing down the road outside the café.

"Grand old building." She continued. "Hard to miss."

"Okay, thank you." Dean said, reaching into his jacket for his wallet. Then he stood up, going through his pockets. After searching them all, he turned to Sam, a look of bewildered shock in his eyes.

"Bitch stole my wallet!"


End file.
